Toy Soldier
by November Rain 19
Summary: My first GW fic. Heero's thinking about his life up to this point. Very angsty, and contains shounenai.


Author's Notes: My first GW fic. 

Warning: I'm not sure why this should be considered a warning, but oh well. This fic contains shonen-ai (a boy in love with another boy.) If you don't like, then don't read. It's as simple as that.   
  
  
  


Toy Soldier   
by Melissa 

  
  
  


Can you remember your childhood? Are they fond memories? 

I can remember mine. In a way, I'm still living it. If you were to pass me on the street, you would see nothing more than a 15 year old boy. That is my outward appearance anyway. My mind is a great deal older. Through every battle I fought, every shot I fired and every life I took, my mind aged......and a little part of my soul died each time. 

Of course I would never admit that to anyone, not even to myself. The perfect soldier doesn't feel anything. There was never any room for emotions. I would follow orders and complete my missions. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Someone referred to us once as 'toy soldiers.' I believe it is because we look like we should be playing with toy soldiers rather than actually being soldiers. Those words ring truer for me now in another sense. I am nothing more than a toy. An unfeeling, deadly toy. 

I am not the only one. There are 4 other boys that are my age who are also part of this war. They are my comrades, my brothers in arms. Despite those terms, I felt no closeness....no common bond with them. They were there to help. And if they got in my way, I would kill them. 

One of them in particular had captured my attention like no other. At first he was merely someone entirely too cheerful. He was good at his job though. That boy is Duo Maxwell. He's the pilot of Deathscythe Hell and the self proclaimed God of Death. Upon one of our first meetings, he shot me. The bullet grazed my arm. 

When ever I see that scar, I think of that braided baka. 

I've tried so hard to push him out of my mind, but he invades my thoughts. Most often is while I sleep, when I can't defend myself from them. Sometimes I would even catch myself daydreaming about him, or staring at him just a bit too long. 

My initial opinion was that he was nothing more than an annoyance. He tried endless times to get me to open up, to share what was inside me. My training wouldn't allow that though. So I pushed him away. I pushed everyone away. 

Duo was always trying to get me to 'loosen up' and to have some fun. 

Fun. How was I supposed to have fun? We were in the middle of a war for God's sake! Let the other children have fun. I have a job to do. 

I remember once that Duo had been bugging me. OK, bugging isn't the proper term I suppose. He had merely been trying to get my attention. God forbid I spare a moment of time for a individual who merely was trying to make me smile. I was at my laptop, trying to hack into some installation when he shut it on me. In one fluid motion I stood up and hit him, hard. It was a typical reaction. He got in my way. I briefly thought he was lucky that I didn't pull out my gun and shoot him. 

He fell to one knee, his hand covering the spot on his face where I had struck him. He turned his gaze upwards and looked at me with such hurt in his eyes. 

It was at that moment that I felt something snap inside of me. I think it might have been my heart. 

He made the comment that I was cold and uncaring. If I was ever to smile, or show any outward emotion, it would probably break my face. 

Outwardly, I let it roll right off my back. Inwardly, that barb buried itself deep. 

I went to my room and I spent the better part of an hour punching the concrete walls. I did so until my knuckles were split and bloody. I couldn't understand why what he said had effected me so much. All I knew was that I needed to hurt myself for hurting him. 

He was right though. I suddenly felt something and I couldn't handle it. 

The perfect soldier suddenly wasn't perfect anymore. 

I remember leaning against the wall and then sliding down so I was sitting on the floor. I was breathing heavily, staring at my injured hands. The blood carved paths down my pale skin. An odd sensation really. It was a while before I realized that I felt the same sensation on my face. 

Crying. I had been crying. 

I had been crying because the words of a boy I care about cut me deeper than any bullet ever could have. 

I scoff at the thought. I didn't just care, I loved him. I _love_ him. I can say that now because I can look back and realize. I didn't know it then, but I do now. 

That happened a few weeks ago. The others had asked me what had happened to my hands, but I blew it off as a weapons malfunction. 

I haven't been the same since. Love and fear suddenly exists in a place where it never had before. Most people are well equipped to handle it. I am not one of them. I've secluded myself more than usual, if that's even possible. Quatre and Trowa have tried to talk to me but I will have none of it. They have each other and I am secretly envious. I have no right to be, I know. I've had the opportunity to possibly have what they have, but I've let it escape countless times. 

Duo won't even look at me anymore. I can't say I don't deserve it. Apparently it was too high a price to pay to take a chance on happiness, on love. 

I think about walking into his room, falling to my knees and begging him for forgiveness. To confess to him my longing to be his angel, if he would have me. To save me or damn me. 

Or kill me. 

He's a God of Death right? He's ended the lives of countless people. What's one more? 

I've thought about doing it myself. I often hold my gun to my head, but I can never seem to pull the trigger. There's not much room for second thoughts with a gun. 

I can't stand the beating of my heart any longer. Not if it causes me nothing but pain. 

I know I sound as if perhaps Duo loves me. The truth is that I don't know. Perhaps he simply was trying to just be my friend. 

Will I ask him how he really feels? Will I tell him how I feel? No, probably not. Fear will keep me silent. It's better not knowing, in my opinion. 

Most likely I will take whatever feelings I have, or ever had, and lock them away. Pretend they never happened. At least, I will try. 

I was better off when I was nothing but a toy soldier.   


The End   


More Author's Notes: Let me know what you think of it. Please?   
  


"Love is blind, isn't she?"  "Yes." "Then I think the whole world should be also." "Oh? And why is that?" "Because if everyone in the world was blind, no one would know how to hate."   
  
  
  
  



End file.
